


ne te quæsiveris extra

by mylosheadphones



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Discussions of death, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-17
Updated: 2020-04-17
Packaged: 2021-03-01 23:36:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,838
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23705479
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mylosheadphones/pseuds/mylosheadphones
Summary: "There’s something in the people’s expressions that makes Jon’s stomach turn over, a sort of vague emptiness that he can’t bear to look at for too long and can’t seem to tear his eyes away from.“Jon,” Martin says. He reaches a hand out without looking up, and Jon takes it. “Have you noticed…”“They’re all sitting alone,” Jon finishes. “Yes.”"This was written self-indulgently after episode 162 and revised after 163 to write out some things the episodes had me thinking about, because I was upset and this was my way of working through that. The title is Latin, it translates to "do not seek for things outside of yourself."
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims
Comments: 2
Kudos: 70





	ne te quæsiveris extra

**Author's Note:**

> This was written in between episode 162 and 163, so I may change the tags to include canon divergence as later episodes come out.  
> TW for discussions of death and self-destructive behaviors; it's a brief conversation towards the end of the work.

Jon stops to breathe, at some point. He’s not sure how long they’ve been walking, and truly he doesn’t even feel all that tired. But it strikes him that after all the things that have happened, all the times that have felt like ‘the end,’ this one really is it. He rests with his elbows against his knees. “Christ,” he says.

“Jon,” Martin says sharply. “We need to get going.”

“Right, right.” Jon smoothes the creases on his shirt and moves to stand. “Sorry.”

“No, it’s… it’s alright, Jon.” Martin reaches down, and Jon takes his help getting back up. “I know you’re dealing with a lot, it's just.”

“No, I know.” Jon lets go of Martin’s hand. “Let’s keep walking.”

“Yeah.” Martin exhales and turns to look ahead. “Sounds like a plan.”

As the miles stretch on behind them, Jon keeps looking for something in the distance. Houses, cities, anything. But there are just  _ miles  _ of nothing. Nothing but the howling of the wind. The howling of the  _ world _ .

* * *

“Martin,” Jon says, after they’ve been walking for a while, “are you feeling alright?”

“Wh- what do you mean?” Martin’s shoulders tense.

“I dunno, you’ve just. You’ve been… you’ve been acting sort of… cagey. I just worry, sometimes.”

“I’m not- I’m not acting, what, cagey? I’m just…” he exhales slowly. “I’m fine, Jon. Thank you. For your concern, I mean.”

“Alright. Alright, yeah. Just… tell me if anything’s bothering you, yeah?”

“Yeah, a lot of things are bothering me. I mean, there’s- there are so many things that could go wrong with this, this plan, and you never heard the phone ringing, which is pretty concerning if I’m being honest, and I-  _ Christ _ , Jon, don’t  _ do _ that!” 

“Do- what? Oh- oh god. Martin. I’m sorry.” Jon stops walking and turns to glance at Martin, whose expression is distant. “I wasn’t, ah. I wasn’t trying to… make you say anything, it. Well. I was just. Trying to show concern, I’m sorry.”

Martin's expression softens. “It’s alright. Things… things are  _ rough _ , right now. For-for everyone,

not just me. I appreciate the concern.”

“Yeah.” Jon holds out one hand and looks ahead at the panopticon. There’s a long silence, and then he feels Martin take his hand and squeeze it. Martin speaks up again.

“There’s, uh.” Jon sees Martin craning his head in of his periphery. “It looks like there’s a service station or- or something, uh, over that way, if we want to get some food. If it’s even open.”

“We don’t need to eat, Martin. But, ah. Honestly, it might be good to stop and take a break. Even if we don’t  _ need _ to, physically.”

“Actually, I was just thinking about that. You-you said we haven’t needed to eat, but since we’ve been walking, haven’t you felt… you know. Hungry?”

Jon pauses to think about it. 

“Actually,” he says, “now that you mention it, I-I have. That’s. Well. Hopefully, it’s a good sign.”

“It has to be, doesn’t it? Means we’re getting somewhere resembling normal.”

“Or it means that the cabin had a worse effect on us than we thought.”

“Yeah. Or it could mean that.”

As they approach the lights, muted through the fog, buildings start taking shape. Most of them appear closed, with the lights off inside. And there’s tendrils of smog curling around the corners and alleys between stores. The worn bricks are desaturated, like the fog has sapped the color from them. Jon hears Martin unzipping his backpack and turns.

“It’s awfully cold,” Martin says. He holds up a jacket. “You want one?”

“There’s a donut shop,” Jon says, taking the jacket from him. “Looks like the only place open.”

“Righto. Do you, uh, want to come in with me? Or do you think it would be too much?”

“No, ah, I’ll come with. Just give me a second.”

“Sure.” Martin zips up a coat of his own and takes a deep breath in. Jon steadies himself against the force of the wind, taking a moment before walking into the icy fog. The cold permeates through his skin and settles in his bones, making it difficult to walk.

The shop is warm inside, and the oblique darkness of the outside world is almost  comforting, filtering through the blinds over the windows. When they enter, a bell rings over the door, and the scarce gathering of clientele turns to regard them with disinterest before returning to whatever else they’re doing. In fact, it all seems mundane, at first. And then he notices it. The wrongness. The shop doesn’t smell like a bakery, but he can pick up the smell of salt in the air. And there’s something in the people’s expressions that makes Jon’s stomach turn over, a sort of vague emptiness that he can’t bear to look at for too long and can’t seem to tear his eyes away from. 

“Jon,” Martin says. He reaches a hand out without looking up, and Jon takes it. “Have you noticed…”

“They’re all sitting alone,” Jon finishes. “Yes.” Martin’s hand is like a vice, and Jon can feel him trembling. “We’ll get some food and leave.”

“Right,” Martin says thickly. “Sounds… sounds good.”

Jon approaches the counter. The cashier is young, maybe a teenager, and when he 

comes up to the counter, she already has two cups of hot coffee in front of her. 

“It’s coffee, isn’t it?” Her voice is dull, and it echoes painfully in the small space. “That's what everyone what comes in here seems to order.”

“Yes, ah. And some donuts, er, please..”

“Yes, alright, what kind?”

“Um.” Jon turns over his shoulder and sees that Martin is glancing from side to side with a hollow look in his eyes. “Whatever’s good, I suppose.”

“Right on.” She leans under the counter and hands him a brown paper bag. Jon doesn’t bother looking inside. He just hands her the money and takes the food without saying anything else. The warmth of the shop is getting to his head. He hands Martin one of the coffees, and they rush out to the curb.

* * *

Sitting on the curb outside with a hot coffee in his hands, Jon feels it might be safe to speak. He turns to ask a question, but Martin speaks up first. “That was- god. That wasn’t a good place.” 

“No. It… it wasn’t.”

“You- the thing is, I think. All of the… the entities have different effects on the avatars they choose, but. The- the lonely, it, well. It’s just… empty. There’s no fiery passion, there’s no disturbed righteousness, it’s just… it’s just resignation. I…” Martin takes a sip of his coffee and sets it on the curb next to him. “You’ve never asked why I started working with Peter Lukas, not really.”

“I don’t want to-”

“-Yes. Yes, you do. It’s alright, I want to tell you this one. You can ask.”

“Alright.” Jon’s voice comes out in a whisper. “Martin. Tell me… hmm.” He stalls, taking a long drink of coffee. “Alright. Tell me why you decided to work with Peter Lukas.”

“I’d given up. I know that’s not a good answer, it’s not particularly poetic and it doesn’t make for

a good story but it’s- it’s the truth. I thought you were dead- no.” He shakes his head and chuckles quietly. “No, you  _ were _ dead.” He swallows and turns to look away. “Jon, I  _ mourned _ for you. And Tim was dead, and so was Sasha, and- and my- my  _ mother _ , for Christ’s sake, and everything I thought I knew had turned out to be a big fucking lie. It- I- it wasn’t a- a strategic move, you know. I turned it around, I really did try to, but that’s not how it started.” He takes a drink of coffee, and Jon sees that his hands have stopped shaking. “No, I just thought working for Peter Lukas would be a good way to get myself killed.”

“Good lord, Martin.”

“It’s bleak, yeah. But that’s why.” Martin exhales, and his shoulders relax slightly. He looks like a great weight has been lifted from him.

“That’s what you meant, isn’t it. When you- you said that the lonely had always had you.”

“It’s not, I mean- no. It wasn’t really meant to be, um, allegorical. But it’s not the first time I’ve done something stupid just because I knew it was a bad idea, if that’s what you mean.”

“Yeah, alright I- I’m sorry. For what it’s worth.”

“Yeah, uh. Thank you. B-but then. Well.” Martin smiles, genuinely. “You came back. But at that point, I- well, I had already disconnected from everyone else, there was hardly any point in reconnecting with you. So I didn’t try to.”

“But I did. I- hah. I really tried.”

“Yeah.” He meets Jons gaze. “You did.”

Martin leans back, wrapping his arms around himself. “And it helped, I think. In the end. I turned on him, you know. That’s, ah. That’s why he cast me into the lonely.”

“Because you wouldn’t kill Jonah?”

“Right. But I think, actually, that- that if you hadn’t tried to help me so many times, if you hadn’t tried to convince me to run  _ away _ …” Martin looks away. “I wouldn’t have turned on Peter if you hadn’t.”

“Maybe. But we don’t know. I don’t Know what  _ would _ have happened, you know. Unfortunately, all I can do is wonder.” Jon laughs uncomfortably. “You know, the worst part of it, if you think about it. I was downright nasty to you all those times- I mean, I was  _ awful. _ But when I finally- I dunno, came to my senses… you were too far gone.”

“Yeah, I suppose you were kind of awful.  _ Were _ , I mean. You- you saved me, after all.” Martin’s lip trembles. “Thank you, Jon. I mean it.” His eyes are wet, but he’s not crying. He’s just staring into the middle distance with a vacant expression. Gingerly, Jon leans forward and wraps his arms around Martin’s shoulders and pulls him into a hug. Martin leans in and hugs him back, and Jon hears him sob into his jacket. He places one hand against the back of Martin’s neck and kisses the top of his head, and then they just sit like that, Martin pressing his face into Jon’s chest and Jon with his chin resting on Martin’s forehead.

“We’re going to be alright,” Jon says, uncertainly. “I  _ hope _ we’re going to be alright,” 

he adds, much more certainly. He rubs circles into Martin's back and looks out the window at the dilapidated stores. “Come on. Let’s go give Jonah Magnus what’s been coming to him for a long long time.” Martin laughs and clings harder to Jon’s jacket. 

“Jon,” he says, “I really love you, you know that?”

“Yes, I Know. I- I love you too, Martin. Really. There are a lot of things that I can’t be sure of right now, a lot of big things. But that’s- that’s one of those things I can always be sure of.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! As always I appreciate constructive criticism and I'm always open to suggestions or ideas.


End file.
